


Scarves are gay culture

by Kangoo



Series: Miscellaneous Warcraft Stuff [12]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 01:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13916343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangoo/pseuds/Kangoo
Summary: Kael'thas does not, actually, know Illidan. They work in the same building, two floors from each other, but they have yet to exchange words beyond the usual 'please' and 'thank you' and 'pardon me' of polite society. They do work for the same company, though, so it's almost as if they were friends.Русский





	Scarves are gay culture

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Scarves are gay culture](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14423520) by [Feloriel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feloriel/pseuds/Feloriel)



> 'this stranger on the street corner looks like they’re severely unprepared for this cold weather, here, take my scarf, i was planning on donating it to goodwill anyways’ au [(source)](http://areyoutryingtodeduceme.tumblr.com/post/98737135980/caswitch-aus-that-need-to-happen-autumn)

Kael'thas has often, in the past, been described as 'hot blooded', in every sense of the term but most importantly the literal one. His skin always feels almost feverish, even when outside temperatures have reached the double digits below zero, and he can easily stand the winter chill.

But Kael'thas lives to be beautiful, and he greatly enjoys being warm rather than simply 'not uncomfortably cold'. Which is why, as soon as October comes around the corner, he can be seen wearing a few more layers of clothing than strictly necessary — and, more importantly, scarves.

(Accessorizing is key to a stylish look.)

And then there's Illidan.

Kael'thas does not, actually, know Illidan. They work in the same building, two floors from each other, but they have yet to exchange words beyond the usual 'please' and 'thank you' and 'pardon me' of polite society. They ___do___ work for the same company, though, so it's almost as if they were friends.

Well, he only knows his name is Illidan because Rommath heard a discussion with the man where it was brought up and used it as a bargaining chip. Kael'thas isn't quite sure the information was worth the cookies he exchanged for it, but it is a good thing to know the same.

(The only reason it even ___was___ a bargaining chip was that Rommath saw him 'pinning' and used that knowledge mercilessly. Kael'thas might loathes the word in that particular context but it is nonetheless fitting and he cannot deny it, which makes it all the more useful when trying to get a favor out of him.)

Although he doesn't really ___know___ the guy, Kael'thas has seen him around the building (and been in an elevator with him, perfectly accidentally of course) enough times to have a reasonable idea of his person.

Illidan is handsome, which is why Kael'thas noticed him in the first place. He is tall — ___very___ tall —, which long, jet black hair and a resting bitch face that would make even the hardiest of businessman quiver in fear, which Kael'thas finds hotter than he probably should. He is a man of few words, who gives a strong impression of never wanting to deal with your shit, which is once again more attractive than it ought to be.

More importantly, Illidan never, ___ever___ , dresses for the weather, or for whatever work he happens to do for their company. In truth, Illidan always wear some variation of the same outfit: a dark shirt, so tight it might as well have been directly painted on his skin, with dark jeans and military-style boots, and a leather jacket thrown on top of that if it happens to be raining.

And Kael'thas is very appreciative of that look, he really is. It's even possible he's walked into more than a few inanimate objects because he was too busy staring at the way the shirt leaves ___nothing___ to the imagination — he would rather die than admit it to Rommath, but he cannot lie to himself. It's the kind of look that screams “I watched Rebels Without A Cause too much in my childhood”. Rommath calls it the 'overgrown emo kid' look. It's a very good look.

There's only one small, teeny-tiny little issue with it: they're in the middle of November, officially the most miserable month of the year, and Illidan is still coming every day with only a shirt on, as if it wasn't raining actual buckets outside.

Of course he doesn't have a hair out of place, which speaks both of an allergy to hats and a preternatural ability to ignore humidity and November's depressive influence. Kael'thas, on the other hand, still can't manage to get up early enough to actually do his hair properly, and even if he did it would get ruined immediately by the incessant rain or the beanie he puts on as soon as he steps out of his home (to hide the result of said humidity).

Kael'thas isn't one to get cold easily, but seeing Illidan steps out with only his jacket and a ___shirt___ , for god's sake, sends a shiver up his spine.

Before he can actually think about it, Kael'thas is running through the lobby and calling out, “Illidan!”

 _ _ _Oh dear,___ He thinks in panic. ___Why the fuck did I do that___.

Too late for regrets, now. Illidan stops and look above his shoulder, an eyebrow steadily rising toward his hairline as he notices the man running in his direction.

Kael'thas squids to a stop a few feet in front of him and, slightly out of breath from the sudden bout of exercise — he really needs to go back to the gym —, starts to untie his scarf from his neck.

The scarf in question is a gift from a great aunt of his. It's uneven, bright green and absolutely hideous, but it's also soft and warm, which is all he can ask for when everything is bleak and gray outside.

He's been meaning to throw it, or maybe burn it and rid the world of it's ugliness, for a while now, but he can never bring himself to it. It's a gift, after all. You don't trash a gift.

But giving it to a handsome stranger? Now that's a good way to get it out of his closet.

Trying very hard not to hyperventilate in panic — Illidan is very intimidating, alright, and he has not idea what he's doing — Kael'thas stands on his toes and loops the green monstrosity around the neck of a bemused Illidan.

“There!” He says, crossing his arm on his chest to hide the slight shaking of his hands. “That's better. You're going to catch pneumonia if you keep going outside dressed like that, you know?”

Illidan plucks at a loose thread, now more bewildered than anything else. “… Thanks?”

 

Kael'thas nods, once, in satisfaction. Then he turns on his heels and leave the way he came from, walking as fast as possible without it being calling 'running'. Technically he should be going the other way, but he plans to hide in a closet and hyperventilate there for a while, to be sure he won't cross Illidan's path again while going home.

Kael'thas doesn't see Illidan the next day, or the day after that. Actually it's a whole two weeks before they cross paths once again, long enough that he almost wrote the whole accident off in his memory as some kind of fever dream.

But then he walks toward the elevator and sees Illidan, wearing the stupid scarf above his usual attire and sipping his thermos with a distant, vaguely distressed look — nothing out of the ordinary for the season.

He's a coward, so he takes the stairs that day. But as he drags himself to his floor, he can't help but see if he can fit a visit to the store on his packed schedule.

He will knit Illidan an entire wardrobe, if that's what it takes to keep him from dying of exposure.


End file.
